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E. ” Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to read. " "A promise to my mother?" said Winifred, unsuspiciously. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. Of course she had often heard sailors hammering out their ditties.
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